Falter
by Monkeybarrel
Summary: Shien thought that he would always have to fight alone in his dark world, but then someone taught him a different way to see.


Disclaimer: Minekura owns all that is her Saiyuki

Warning: Language, some violence, yaoi bits

Notes: A birthday gift to G, who always leaves me in awe.

-------- 

**  
Falter**

He didn't need his eyes to walk around unhindered. He knew every space on the floor; he knew how wide the halls were, and he knew which doors, like the wine cellar's, he needed to duck his head before entering. No one ever offered him an arm to guide him. He had taught that lesson years before, back when he was surrounded by other soldiers, those who had thought that the blind god would be easy prey for their humor.

-----

"I cannot see your face." Shien's sightless eyes faced forward as his hand held the arm of the soldier who had just attempted to steal his plate of food. "So you will have to tell me if you can feel this." He twisted the soldier's wrist towards him. The plate clattered onto the table, and he heard a hiss of pain by his ear, but those sounds were not enough to satisfy him. "Forgive me, but I couldn't hear you." He tightened his grip and gave one more rapid turn. "How about that?"

Wood crashed on wood, the sound of a chair falling back, and the soldier's arm sank beneath his grip. Shien let go and listened as the other fell whimpering to the floor. Without hesitation, he reached for his fork (for he remembered where he had placed it) and pulled his plate towards himself. The clink of the fork hitting the ceramic surface echoed through the quiet mess hall. He didn't need to see to know that everyone was looking at him. He could hear them shifting uncomfortably in their seats, but no one reached for either him or the soldier still on the floor next to his chair. Shien knew that out of the two of them, it would be he who would receive the greater punishment. But that would be later. For now, he savored the food on his fork, and the quiet that made eating in peace possible.

It only lasted a few moments.

"What the fuck is going on?" Like a shot from the gun he always carried, Zenon's voice broke the silence.

No one in the mess hall answered him. Shien could feel that all the stares had moved off of him and towards the door. He took another bite of his dinner as he listened as one pair of heavy boots walked closer to his table. They stopped just behind him.

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

The question was directed to his back, but it was the soldier on the floor who responded. "N-n-nothing. I just...dropped something." With a pained grunt, he started to get up off the ground.

"Why don't you pick his chair up?" Zenon asked, his voice low.

A soldier on his right started to move, and Shien lifted his hand in the air to stop him. "He was talking to me." He pushed his chair back, wood scraping against wood, and stood up. He didn't need to feel around to know where the other chair had fallen. He reached down, felt the cool wood beneath his fingers, and set it back in place. He stood behind it and waited.

"What are you waiting for?" Zenon's voice pointed towards his left where the soldier was still standing, his breathing coming out in a low wheeze.

Uneasy footsteps, and then there was the sound and weight of someone sitting down. For one moment, Shien felt the soft fabric of the soldier's uniform against his fingers that still gripped the back of the chair, but then the other realized the touch and shifted closer to the table. Quiet fell, and Shien knew again that all eyes were directed at him. He was tired of being the night's show though, and he turned to leave.

"You're not gonna finish your dinner?"

He let his footsteps answer Zenon's question, and he walked with his arms close to his sides, allowing no sign that he needed any help to find the way out.

-----

"Why do you keep eating with them?"

Shien didn't look up from the window, but continued to face out towards the courtyard. For him, there was nothing to see, but he still enjoyed the night air on his skin, and the sounds in the garden that only came out in the late evening.

Zenon walked towards him, and Shien noted that he never reached for the unlit lamp sitting on the table. What light in the room would come only from the night sky that shone through the window. Shien wondered if that was bright enough for him to see by, or was Zenon as used to walking in the dark as he was?

Zenon stopped by the other side of the long window, and there was a pause between them. Shien listened to the crickets outside and felt the air change as Zenon prepared to speak again.

"You didn't answer my question."

"Was that question for me?" Shien leaned against the window frame. "I assumed you were talking to yourself, and it would have been rude to interrupt."

One boot stepped closer. "Don't play that shit with me. You knew I was talking to you." And then the other moved with it, softer. "You always know."

"You say that like it's special." He laughed, but there was no humor in it. "Like I have this gift." He waved his hand in front of his eyes. "You must be more blind than me-"

The distance between them closed so quickly that he was taken by surprise, and he backed up instinctively as he felt the other right next to him, grabbing his shoulders and pressing him against the wall.

"Are you done feeling sorry for yourself?" Zenon's voice was right by his ear, angry and hot. "Because I'm tired of this shit. Of their shit and your shit. All of it. I'm tired."

Shien turned his face towards the window, and the night air brushed across his cheeks. As he breathed it in, he felt the heat and emotion that seemed to pour into him from Zenon's outburst start to cool down. He put his hands to Zenon's chest and pushed him back, firmly. "If you're so tired, then go to bed."

He crossed his arms over his chest and kept his face to the window. The pause between them was so heavy that Zenon's next question got stuck in its silence, but Shien knew what it was. The night air wasn't cold enough to chill that need away.

But unlike the air, he was.

"My gifts and I wish to stay here," he said to the window. "So we bid you a good night."

He waited for the sounds of Zenon's boots walking away, but those weren't what he heard next.

"Answer my damn question, Shien. If you hate them so much. If you hate them so much for having something you don't, then why do you keep coming back?"

Shien weighed his next move in his head. He could stand and face the window and stay quiet, but he had a feeling now that Zenon would stand there all night and wait for his answer. Why he would do this, Shien could not figure out. Zenon knew that there were no words that could get them to walk down that hall together, to his room and his bed. What incentive was there to keep pushing if what he wanted would not be granted?

But Shien felt it, the need hanging in the air, this one different than the other that had been wrapped in hot breath and rough hands. He felt it, pushing at his back, quiet, insistent, not going away. He closed his eyes, faced the floor, and allowed himself to answer, just this once.

"They need to get used to me. They need to see me, and see that even though I can't- that even though I am not like them, they need to see that I can work and do my duty as well as them. We can only serve together if they know that."

He stood there and waited. When no response came, he turned towards Zenon. "Are you satisfied?"

"You're a fucking piece of work, didya know that?" The sharpness in his voice was so intense that Shien took a step back. But he had nothing to worry about. There was no closing distance this time. "No one is going to get used to you. Not when you fucking hate them all. You think you're the only one who knows this, but you're not." He listened as Zenon's boots stomped away, his last words rising just above their echo. "Everyone knows, Shien."

------

The next morning, the seat next to his was empty. The soldier that had been sitting there the night before had moved to another table. He wasn't the only one. Shien could feel the unease among the others sitting near him, and heard as they quietly picked up their plates, pushed back their chairs, and moved away. He sat and finished his meal, feeling his fork sink into the food, and then feeling the metal between his teeth as he bit down on it.

After archery practice, the commanding officer took him aside.

"I don't know if this is working out."

Shien looked up towards him. "How? I didn't miss one target."

"No, that's not what I mean." There was a scraping sound. This officer had that nervous habit of scratching at his head when he talked. "You got all that done perfectly." Scratch-scratch-scratch. "Just like you always do."

"Then what is not working out?"

Scratch-scratch. "It's the others. They don't seem to be..." there was a pause in both speaking and scratching as the officer searched for his words, "taking to you so well."

"What are you saying?" Shien stepped forward. He felt the reserve that he held on to so tightly start to slip, and he clenched his fists to keep control.

"I'm saying that out there you all have to work together. And if the group can't do that, then we're all fucked. Do you see? I mean-" Scratch-scratch. "Do you understand?"

Somehow, over the officer's unsteady voice and his scratching fingers, Shien heard Zenon speaking. _Everyone knows._

His hands fell to his sides, unclenched. He felt defeated. He had hit every mark, every target, perfectly, and he still failed.

A hand fell on his shoulder, but he didn't look up to confirm that he knew it was there. "There are other sections that could use you, you know," the officer said. "I've seen your writing. It's real nice and clear, which is pretty funny, I guess, since you can't read-"

There was a shout at the edge of the practice field, and Shien turned towards it. Someone was running, his breathing ragged and uneven, and he knew without seeing that something had happened.

Something bad had happened, and they were needed.

------

He reached his hand out and felt the side of the cave. The stone was cool and rough to the touch. He glided his hand lightly across the wall as he walked, more to keep balance over the ground which was littered with loose stones than for guidance.

_I can do it. Let me do it._

They had refused at first, but he argued back which brought him onto even shakier ground. You do not contradict your commanders, but he felt like he had nothing more to lose. It was do this, or spend the rest of his life locked away in some small room, a pencil in his hand, copying dictated orders and memos. He had fought too hard to be sent off like that. He gripped his whips tightly and stepped forward. He could do this. He could still fulfill his duty for his group.

It didn't matter to him that the demon chose a dark cave to hide out in after its first attack. The narrow space within would make fighting difficult though. He walked sideways, but faced forwards, one whip held out in front of him, one held out behind. Silence surrounded him, broken only by his soft footfalls as he edged closer inside.

"It's not too big, but really fast," one of the few survivors had reported. "It was like a shadow. It came out of nowhere and just tore everyone apart. No one saw it coming."

_"If it's that hard to see, then maybe you'll need someone who doesn't see to fight it."_

As he pulled his foot out from a small hole in the rocks, he decided that he didn't regret saying those words, but the ones he had said after probably should have stayed inside his head.

_"I work better alone."_

It was true that in going by himself, there were no other sounds to steal his focus, but there was also no chance of back-up either. If he fell, if he made one wrong move, he will have fulfilled his final duty as a soldier. Now, suddenly, that desire felt far less satisfying.

This is how it is though, he thought grimly. This is how it always has been. It's always just me, moving forward in the dark, alone. He smiled as the irony finally set it. How appropriate it would be if he died like that.

A rock fell far to the left. He turned his head, and holding his breath, listened. Then he heard it; so quiet, it was almost like a breeze, but he was down too deep for that to exist. His grip on his whips tightened. He pushed back any fears of choosing the wrong weapon for such a narrow space. He had used them enough in their small practice rooms to feel comfortable with them. Still, he felt a drop of cool sweat slide down his face, and the moment it fell off his chin, he heard the breeze rush towards him. He lifted his front whip and struck forward. He heard the ripping of flesh as the whip hit its mark, and then a squeal of pain echoed against the wall. He pulled back his arm to strike again, but the squeal rose up, piercing the air. So loud, he took a step back and felt his foot sink into air- another hole. As his front knee bent forward to balance, he realized his mistake. The others had focused too much on seeing the demon that they had lost. And he- he had focused too much on listening, giving the demon another weapon to use against him.

The cries were deafening, and he wanted to fall back, to cover his ears, and the thought of dying in the dark didn't feel as scary if it just stopped the screaming all around him. He leaned forward, trying to pull his foot out of the hole. He jammed his whips into the ground and pulled himself towards them.

In his dark, he felt the rocks beneath him, and the rush of air rip the armor off his back. He fell forward, his foot still caught, and felt the cold gravel against his cheeks. In the storm of screams, he realized that one of them was his.

But then, over the sound of the demon's cries and the tearing of his own flesh, something louder rang out, and before Shien lost all sense of the cave and his life, one thought clung to him.

_Who would fire a gun in such a narrow space…_

------

It was the sun- its warmth on his cheeks that woke him. He couldn't see it, or its brightness that everyone talked about all the time, but he felt it, all over his body. He turned his face away, but only so the other half could feel its warmth too.

"Too bright?" Low and raspy, Zenon's voice sounded like he hadn't used it in a while. That, or maybe he had eaten a few of his cigarettes.

"Do you think brightness bothers me?" Even though it hurt, he gave a small smile towards the window where Zenon was standing.

"Ah, right. I forget...sometimes."

"Leave it open." He nodded to the window, and then regretted it as the slight movement sent pain shooting through his whole body. He tried to straighten the wince out of his face. "...I like the way it feels."

The bed sank down near his feet as Zenon rested on the edge of it. "You like how what feels?"

Was it the pain that made him sleepy, or was it the sun? All he could say was, "This."

"There're people waiting outside, you know?" Zenon's words drifted through the haze in his head. "The rest of your group. They're all waiting to see how you are. The doctor said they can't see you yet, so I'm gonna tell'em you look like shit." He laughed, shaking the bed beneath them. "Like real ripe, stinking shit."

"...Your fault."

"Why the fuck is it my fault?"

"Because," he turned his face towards Zenon. "It was you who shot me."

"Yeah, but you ducked first. I didn't hit you. So, stop your crying."

"Still…" He felt himself start to float away, but somehow Zenon sitting on the edge of the bed kept what little of his focus that was left. "Shooting in such a small space..."

"Yeah." The bed sank beneath him more, and he felt warm air on his face, warm, and smoky. "It's just- when you yelled out, when you said my name, I just-" Something soft rested against his face, and he realized that it was Zenon's hair. "I lost it for a second."

There was a knock on the door, and then suddenly all were gone, the hair on his cheek, the weight on the bed. He heard the sound of boots walking to the door. He could still feel the sun on his face, but now, it felt a little less warm. He swallowed and felt how dry his throat was. He coughed, and then spoke up as he heard the door knob start to turn.

"Thank you." He swallowed again, but it didn't make it any easier. "Thank you...for shooting me."

"Heh," he heard the creak of the door open, "Here in the army, that's what we call teamwork."

"I see." Shien hoped his smile looked more relaxed than pained. "I suppose I'll have to get used to that"

"...Damn straight."

By the time the door closed, he was already drifting off.

------

Homura had not come back yet, and the palace rested in the quiet of his absence. Shien walked the halls, familiarizing himself with their new home. There were three doors on the left, and then the corner, which when you turned, led to a hall with four more doors. "So many rooms and so few of us." But the Toushin Taishi liked this palace. Its many doors and halls suited him. For Shien though, it would take a little time to get used to every corner.

As he walked, one door on the left creaked open. He stopped and waited. "Is it not to your taste?"

"It's fucking purple." Zenon did not seem to like his room.

"Is that very bad?"

"Why does everything have to be fucking purple?"

He stepped through the doorway and Zenon moved aside, letting him in. Shien brushed his hand along the wall. "Purple? Feels like bumpy to me."

"Yeah, okay, that too. Fucking bumpy purple."

"Well, I suppose you will just have to get used to it. Homura said this was to be your room."

"I don't want to get used to it." He felt Zenon behind him, his warm breath on the back of his neck.

He smiled as he ran his hand along the wall, feeling all the bumps beneath his fingertips. He felt the table in front of him, and he reached down until he found what he was looking for. "Then you will have to do what I do."

"What's that?" Zenon closed the door.

Without a word, he lifted the lamp and blew.

Zenon was a fast learner. He had no problem finding his way in the dark.


End file.
